The belly of the Desire creaked and groaned. It was dusk and the last vestiges of the sun’s rays skittered over the wall opposite the port hole as the ship rose and fell with the rolling ocean. Keelan dipped a rag into the shallow bowl of tepid water and rubbed it over her face, neck and arms, wiping away the grit of dried salt spray. She studied the top of her hand, then craned her head and peered at the back of her shoulder. The stain had definitely faded. She glanced at the small bottle of dye near the bowl. She’d have to reapply it before they returned to port.
DesireThe thought of another application had her wrinkling her nose. The dye had been made from a mixture of molasses, black walnut hulls, and a partially burned hog carcass. The odor wasn’t unpleasant as much as out of place.
